


endless minutes

by greekdemigod



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F, brief mentions of Michael and Susanna, post 2x22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekdemigod/pseuds/greekdemigod
Summary: The minutes stretch and stretch and stretch, the time between the question and the answer elongating, insufferably so.For the first time in six years, Rose doubts.[The moment right after the end of 2x22 in Rose's perspective.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have been so obsessed with this pairing and it's getting a little ridiculous and also, today has been torture so far. And I have only been awake for about four hours. THE LAST OF THE WAITING IS KILLING ME.
> 
> So, being entirely unprofessional at my internship, I wrote a little something just to reign in some of my intense feelings.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The minutes stretch and stretch and stretch, the time between the question and the answer elongating, insufferably so.

For the first time in six years, Rose doubts. Not about Luisa’s love for her—it’s clear to her that _that_ will never die, that they will never love someone as much as they love each other, that they’re it. She has never believed in soulmates, but if she did, _Luisa would be it_. Luisa would be the one.

Luisa is the one.

No, she doesn’t doubt that. But as her hand is stretched into the void, slender fingers outstretched towards Luisa’s touch, she doubts. She thinks that maybe Luisa _won’t_ take her hand, _won’t_ run away with her, _won’t_ choose her back.

Maybe she has finally hurt Luisa enough for it to eclipse their love and it shakes everything she believes in.

Because the _only_ thing she believes in is them, in their ability to overcome anything, as long as they’re together.

And it’s her own fault if this fails, if Luisa turns away from her and tells her to go. It’ll be all her own fault. She said no every time Luisa asked _her_ to run away with her, and only proposed the same thing at less than opportune times herself.

Her gun is still warm from shooting Cordero and Luisa is still reeling from finding out she’s alive, and she’s asking the woman to leave the life that she knows and the last bits of family that she has, for her.

And suddenly she’s convinced herself that, them being the greatest love story ever told neither here nor there, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe she should give Luisa time, give her space, give her the distance to _deal_ with this.

Her confidence wavers as her hand does, arm starting to inch down, and Luisa doesn’t grab her hand—but she _does_ grab her wrist, soft fingers holding on tight—bruisingly tight, and she shouldn’t shiver, shouldn’t be thinking about all the times Luisa pinned her down to a bed or whichever somewhat even surface she could find, but the thoughts flit through her mind regardless.

Then just like that she’s composed herself again, smug smile morphing into something more genuine.

“You’ll come?”

Luisa looks more broken than she ever has, still gasping for air that won’t make her stop feeling like she can’t breathe, grappling with the onslaught of all that’s happened—Rose has become a master of reading the other, and it aches to see her in so much pain that she’s caused yet again, but she grows hopeful, too. Because Luisa is touching her and she might look like she’s dying, but she also looks more alive than she’s looked in _months_.

Around _Susanna_ she never looked like that.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll come. Of course.” She hiccups a laugh, a sob choked back in her throat. “Without you I have nothing… I _am_ nothing.”

That both pleases her and hurts her. It’s romantic, but Luisa is so much more than this, than her other half, than _just_ a girlfriend or a lover or, _maybe hopefully someday_ , her wife. Her wrist twists so she can slide her fingers up along Luisa’s palm and slot them between hers. Pale next to tan, ever so familiar, and just like it should be.

She has no time to rant about this—she would, she would not rest until Luisa was properly reminded of her self-worth, but there is no time. They need to _go_.

But she does say this: “No, you’re everything.”

And finally Luisa smiles, and Rose doesn’t doubt any longer. They’re going to be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I would really appreciate hearing what you guys thought, I know it was very short but this is my first time writing about these two and for this fandom so it's a little nerve-wrecking, ick.


End file.
